Strange Days
by parscilla
Summary: It began as a normal day, as strange days normally do. It was sunny, and the morning was happily guiding Harry Potter to his usual breakfast in the great hall, when the boy checked his enchanted map of the Hogwarts castle. Lately, even a warm, welcoming breakfast couldn't coax away his suspicious thoughts about Draco Malfoy. (Sectumsempra scene re-write) [oneshot]


It began as a normal day, of course, as strange days normally do. It was sunny, and the morning was happily guiding Harry Potter to his usual breakfast in the great hall, when the boy checked his enchanted map of the Hogwarts castle. Lately, he'd been so obsessed with one of his classmates, that even a warm, welcoming breakfast couldn't coax away his suspicious thoughts about -

"_Draco Malfoy_" read the labeled dot which Harry saw in the boy's bathroom on the floor below, accompanied strangely by a second dot that belonged to none other than Moaning Myrtle. Harry's eyebrows furrowed as he contemplated the cause of this unexpected coupling. As the familiar curious feelings arose in his mind – as they usually did concerning Draco Malfoy – he walked straight into a suit of armor, causing it to emit a loud clashing sound and alerting him out of his possible-death-eater-action stupor, and to his surroundings. He looked around quickly, soon then turning and swiftly running to the stairs and making his way down to the restroom in which Malfoy and Myrtle seemed to be having their get-together. He paused for a moment, pressing his ear to the door in an attempt at hearing anything interesting. When he did not, he gently pushed open the door, careful not to make any noise, and stepped into the room.

Malfoy was standing with his back facing the door, leaning over the sink with Myrtle a few feet away, softly speaking to him, not daring go any closer, obviously torn between comforting him and wanting to avoid the possibility of upsetting him even more.

"Don't," she pleaded, "tell me what's the matter…I can help you…"

"No one can help me," he replied, his shoulders shaking out of what Harry assumed was irritation. "I can't do it…I can't…Unless I do it soon…I just…can't." His voice started to shake and it deepened in a manner Harry could not remember it ever being in before. "He says he'll kill me."

Suddenly, Harry froze his breath stopping. Malfoy was crying - really, physically, actually crying. Streams of tears ran down his pale cheeks, his usually neat white-blond hair falling into his face. He ran his fingers through it, not bothering to wipe his tears and looked up into the mirror. His face of pain and heartbreak morphed into a face of pure horror as he saw Harry standing there, arms limp and lips parted, watching him curiously.

He spun around, drawing his wand. Instinctively, Harry drew his, and desperately thought '_Levicorpus!' _To his utter dismay, Malfoy blocked the jinx, throwing his own hex in Harry's direction. Harry was trapped, his back facing the stalls.

His heart raced. "_Cruc—_" he heard, and did the single oddest thing he'd ever done in his life. He bound forward and flung his arms around Malfoy's torso, holding him in a deep hug.

"- _io?_" Malfoy uneasily dropped the rest of his curse, which obviously had no effect since his arms hung awkwardly around Harry's embracing body. Harrys breaths were short and his eyes darted across the room, first spotting a flabbergasted Myrtle, and finally as he saw the back of a very blond head did he realize what he was doing.

Harry Potter was _hugging_ Draco Malfoy.

He felt Malfoy's arms relax around him and his head rest on his shoulder, "I'm sorry," said his faint whisper, marking the second weirdest thing that had happened that day. Scratch that – in his life.

Harry, still locked in the strange embrace, asked almost breathlessly, "Did you just apologize to me?"

"I suppose," answered Malfoy's shaking voice, pausing before he continued. "I suppose I am sorry I tried to curse you."

"Er," Harry started. "Thanks, Malfoy."

He stood there for a while longer, wondering what sort of tremendous magic had happened to cause a situation in which Draco Malfoy would be gently sobbing into his shoulder. "Malfoy?" he spoke cautiously, still very disturbed by the entire situation. He heard a questioning grunt and took it as permission to ask his question.

"Why the hell are you crying?" he finally asked. Malfoy's previously warm arms and chest stiffened. He pulled out of the hug, as well.

Looking upward and wiping the still flowing tears, he smirked in an attempt at bringing back his cool and un-caring manner. "None of your business, Potter."

Harry crossed his arms, "You can't just nearly torture me, and then sob against my shoulder for what – ten minutes? – and then not even tell me why."

"Well _you_ can't just barge into bathrooms, _sneaking up on people_, and watch what they're doing."

"Excuse me, Malfoy? This is a public restroom, in a public place. I go where I want."

Malfoy apparently had no smart retort, so he turned on his heel, running his shaky hand through his already hopelessly ruffled hair and walked towards the door. Harry heaved an exasperated sigh and belted out, "Malfoy, wait!"

Without turning around, Malfoy replied, "What do you _want_, Potter?"

Harry walked over to him, gently putting a hand on his shoulder and turning Malfoy to face him. "I know," He began, not being able to finish because of Malfoy's hand suddenly slamming into his chest, pushing him backward. "Malfoy, what the –" he exclaimed, again unable to fully articulate, but this time not due to violence. Malfoy's arms were suddenly around him once more, his face buried in between his neck and shoulder. Harry stood there with a curious expression, and then heard Malfoy whisper, "I'm sorry," For the second time. "Please – don't talk to me anymore."

And with that, he pulled back, turning on his familiar sneer (though very translucent since his face was flushed from all the sobbing), and said, "by the way, Potter, your pants look like they could fit a hippogriff." His voice quieted as usual when he was about to make a terrible remark, "Hand-me-downs from your filthy Muggle cousin, are they?" he snorted smartly, "Thought so." ang grabbed his sweater, previously on the sink, exiting without another word.


End file.
